A Phantastic Interlude
by pemberlee
Summary: EC Oneshot. Mostly a bit of satiric fluff, but Christine does come to an important decision. Rating because it is rather suggestive, but not graphic, so if you like that kind of thing please R&R.


**Note**: This is _not_ meant to be taken seriously. Based on the movie.

**A Phantastic Interlude**

Above the opera house, all was noise and confusion. A fire had broken out and there were ballet girls, stagehands, and audience members running in all directions. The police did their best to restore some semblance of order, but they were prepared to capture a murderer, not deal with crashing chandeliers, disappearing prima donnas, and burning theatres.

Below the opera house, all was calm and quiet, except for the sound of two people kissing furiously on top of a bed shaped like a swan.

"Oh you were marvelous," said Christine Daae. "They will talk about that performance for years to come and not just because of the chandelier, I mean, but because you sang so beautifully."

"I know," said Erik a.k.a the Phantom of the Opera, a.k.a O.G. a.k.a the Trapdoor Lover.

"That is not very modest of you," observed Christine.

"I do not have very much to be modest about," said Erik, pulling her back into his arms.

Just then there was a clamoring at the gate, which led to Erik's cave.

"Christine! Christine! I have come for you," called Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny.

Christine would have answered him, only it was very difficult to talk with Erik's tongue in her mouth. Fortunately, Raoul could not see Erik or Christine, as they were concealed behind the white drapes surrounding the swan-bed.

"Damn. He seems to have made it past my traps," said Erik.

"I always said that he was much cleverer than you give him credit for," said Christine.

"What have you done to Miss Daae, Phantom?" shouted Raoul.

"Nothing she didn't _want_ me to do," Erik muttered.

"Oh dear," said Christine. "I'll handle this."

"Christine? Where are you?" yelled Raoul, frantically.

Christine was fumbling to button her dress as she called out, "I'm coming Raoul."

"Well, at least someone is," said Erik testily.

"Not another word from you," she warned him, trying to flatten her disheveled hair. She pushed through the curtains and waded into the water toward the gate that separated her from the fopping, I mean _sopping_, wet Raoul.

"Oh, Christine, you're safe!" he said.

"Of course, I'm safe," she replied. "What are you doing here, Raoul?"

"I've come to rescue you," he said.

"How exactly did you plan on opening the gate?" asked Christine.

"Well," said Raoul, looking confused, although quite handsomely so. "I was going to ask the Phantom to lift the gate for me, of course!"

"And you expected him just to let you in?" asked Christine gently. Really, and some people considered _her_ to be the naïve one!

"Yes?" said Raoul, uncertain if he was giving the right answer.

"I'm afraid I have to give you back your ring, Raoul," said Christine, pushing the gold band through the metal bars of the gate and into his hand.

"But…I love you," said Raoul.

"I know and that is why you mustn't tell anyone where to find me," said Christine. "Do you promise?"

"But…I love you," he said again.

Christine began to grow annoyed with him. "You must promise not to tell anyone about Erik and me," she said very slowly to make sure he understood.

"Who is Erik?"

"The Phantom of the Opera," explained Christine impatiently.

"You want to stay here with that madman?" said Raoul.

"Exactly," said Christine.

"But why?" he asked incredulously.

"Because he says that I alone can make his song take flight," replied Christine. "All you ever said was that you wanted to hold me and hide me, which sounded very boring in comparison."

"I don't understand," said Raoul. "You must give me another reason."

"There's his music," offered Christine. "You heard him sing tonight. He's quite splendid, isn't he?"

"He does have a very big organ," admitted Raoul enviously.

"How do you know THAT?" asked Christine, her tone suspicious.

"Because I can see it right there," said Raoul, pointing to the large instrument behind her.

Christine turned around and realized her mistake, saying, "Oh, you mean his _pipe_ organ. Yes, it is very big and he, um, plays it very well."

"We only have a grand piano at the château and I've never even used it, except to play Chopsticks," said Raoul sadly. "You're sure this is where you want to be?"

"Quite sure," Christine assured him.

"Then I'd better go stop the mob from coming down here and lynching your precious Erik," he said, his voice not as bitter as one might expect. The Vicomte was nothing if not a good sport.

"You are very forgiving, Raoul," said Christine.

"This isn't because of my hair, is it?" asked Raoul, as he turned to go. "Because I can cut it, you know."

"I'm afraid that wouldn't make any difference," said Christine. "But you might want to do so anyway. Your hair is rather…long. And it sometimes looks like a wig."

"I will cut it in honor of your memory, Christine. Goodbye," he said and splashed away to intercept the angry crowd before heading to a barber.

"Is he gone?" asked Erik, after a moment.

"Yes," said Christine, wringing out her skirts.

"Then come back to bed, my wanton," he said, as he drew back the curtains.

"WHAT did you just call me?" asked Christine.

"I'm sorry, my dear," said Erik. "It was a joke."

"I didn't find it very amusing," said Christine, staring at him very hard.

"Will you allow me to give you a proper apology?" he asked.

"Very well," she said, climbing up next to him and kissing his deformed cheek.

Then Christine shut the curtains to the swan-bed, so that no prying vicomtes or readers could interrupt Erik's apology.


End file.
